Chapter 144: Temporal Ripples·Prologue of the New Era

Zhao Jianguo shoved the Terminal back into his pocket, his finger gently rubbing the cloth. The slip of paper was still there, warm, as if heated by body heat. He lowered his head to glance at the sleeping child in his arms, the little face pressed against his chest, breathing tremblingly, like a newly hatched chick.

Su Qing was bending over to tidy the Cloth Bundle, heard a movement and looked up: "Going?"

"Mm," he said, "you take them back first."

She didn't ask where, nor tell him to wear more, she just gathered the twins into her arms, one hugging the other, movements as practiced as ten years. One child groggily opened his eyes, mumbled "Dad", then buried his head into her shoulder.

Zhao Jianguo watched the scene, his throat moved, and he turned and left.

The exhibition hall lights dimmed a little behind him, the corridor was empty, Footsteps were light, but each step felt solid. He knew this journey could not be turned back—since the moment he decided to teach the child to write, some things had already been pushing him forward.

Outside, the sky had just turned black, the wind was light, a bit cool on the face. The Tech Building glowed in the distance, the whole structure like a matchstick thrust into the night, entirely translucent. It was the first smart building he helped design, now a citywide tech landmark. He used to joke that it was "just a façade for the future," but tonight, approaching it, he realized that the big door was actually left for himself.

When he reached the center of the square, the Terminal suddenly trembled.

It wasn't an alarm nor a prompt tone, just a brief blip, like a missed heartbeat. He pulled it out and saw the Screen automatically lit, displaying a line: 【Activate ultimate task: Create Transcender Civilization Archive?】.

Below there were no "Yes" or "No" buttons, only an empty box that read "Please enter initial emotional key".

He stood still, unmoving.

All those images flooded his mind at once: Su Qing's laugh when she said "I dreamed I was in the exam hall, unable to write my name"; Dong Xu squatting in a workshop corner, drawing a machine tool diagram with a pencil tip on scrap paper; and the moment Chen Jianguo vanished, the slip of paper fluttered down—wind stopped, people fell silent, just that thin paper landed in his hand.

These events were originally unrelated, but now strung together, pressing his chest with a suffocating weight.

He pulled out the slip, its edges still shimmering with blue light, a bit brighter than before. He stared for a few seconds, then whispered, "Old Chen, you said 'Watch out for 1978,' is it because… you also tried, but didn't make it?"

No one answered. Only the hum of wind passing the building's glass curtain wall.

He closed his eyes, recalling the daytime in the exhibition hall, children pointing at the wall map shouting "Liangliang." Back then he found it funny—what could kids know about historical milestones? But now he thought, they didn't know what regret was, so they could see the light at a glance.

Opening his eyes, he was already on the steps, standing before the main entrance of the Tech Building.

The night wind lifted his coat hem; he looked up at the building and chuckled, "Alright, then let's stop just building machines."

He raised his hand, his fingertips touching the task panel floating in the void.

In that instant, the ground trembled slightly.

It wasn't an earthquake, more like a frequency resonating. The Terminal Screen suddenly flashed a new prompt: 【Detected 1978 temporal‑spatial fluctuation increase, intensity +150%】.

Then, ripples spread through the air, like an invisible hand stirring a water surface. In the distant horizon, an ultra‑thin Light Trace streaked across the night sky, vanishing instantly—he recognized that trajectory, identical to the last lingering signal from Chen Jianguo.

Strangely, the Terminal in his pocket suddenly emitted a light laugh.

It wasn't a synthetic tone nor a recording, just a child's laugh, crisp and brief, like someone chasing a rubber ball at the doorstep.

He froze, then instantly realized—it was the twins' voice.

Yet they were clearly already home, still asleep.

He looked down at the Terminal again, noticing a line of small text that had appeared on the Screen at some point: 【Detected new‑generation consciousness resonance, civilization inheritance chain preliminarily connected】.

Before he could examine it closely, a second laugh reached his ears, this time nearer, as if right behind him.

He snapped his head around.

No one.

Only the plaza's light shadows lay quietly on the ground, outlining his solitary silhouette.

He slowly turned back, his hand still hovering mid‑air, fingertips just an inch from the task confirmation point.

At that moment, the Terminal in his chest pocket shook violently, as if trying to burst out of the pocket. The Screen flashed, displaying a passage of text:

【Initial emotional key recognized】

【Source: Intent of choosing to abandon a stable life】

【Carrier: Parental‑education commitment and historical regret empathy】

【Verification passed】

The next second, the entire task panel turned into a stream of light, slipping along his finger into his body. There was no pain nor dizziness, only a heaviness in his chest, as if something had suddenly been placed on his back.

A System Prompt tone sounded, neither loud nor soft, yet clear as if emanating from within his bones:

【Transcender Civilization Archive creation successful】

【Initial data synchronizing】

【First record loaded: 1978 College Entrance Exam Reinstatement Event·Social Cognition Leap Node】

As the voice fell, the surrounding air fell completely silent.

Even the wind stopped.

He stood where he was, feeling the Terminal in his arms gradually cool, the restless sensation fading, replaced by a… steady weight.

As if he were bearing a piece of history no one remembered.

He took a deep breath, lifted his gaze to the night sky.

The Light Trace earlier had vanished, but near the skyline, faint specks of light flickered, rhythmically like a heartbeat. He counted seven in total, positioned at several key schools in Beijing's old city district—Affiliated High School of Peking University, Beijing No. 4 High School, Normal University Girls' Affiliated High School…

They matched exactly the red dots on the daytime exhibition hall map.

Moreover this time, those light points were no longer static, but blinking in a rhythm, as if transmitting information.

He was just about to open the Terminal to check when a familiar child's voice came from behind.

"Dad!"

He snapped around.

Two small figures ran forward one after another, wearing padded coats, hats askew, cheeks frozen bright red. Su Qing followed behind, calling out, "I said don't come out! It's very cold out there!"

Zhao Jianguo was stunned: "How did you get here?"

"They insisted on looking for you." Su Qing panted, handed over the scarf she held, "They said they heard you calling them in a dream."

He took the scarf, lowered his head to look at the two children. The older one tilted his face upward, eyes bright: "Dad, we dreamed of school, many older brothers and sisters lined up to enter the exam hall, and an aunt smiled at us."

"Which aunt?" his voice a little hoarse.

"The one in Mom's photo." The child pointed at Su Qing.

Su Qing was startled, instinctively touching her own face.

Zhao Jianguo didn't speak, just slowly squatted down, wrapping the scarf around the child's neck. His hand trembled a little, and he tied a crooked knot.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Not cold!" the two children said in unison, then each hugged one of his arms, rubbing their heads against his shoulder.

Just then, the terminal trembled again.

This time it was neither a warning nor a prompt, but an automatically playing video.

There was no sound, but the image was very clear: an old classroom, with a slogan on the wall that read "Strive for a hundred days, vow to enter university." A young woman sat at the desk, head down writing, her profile almost identical to Su Qing's. She finished a sheet of paper, gently folded it, placed it in the drawer, and looked out the window.

The camera pulled back, and outside the window was 1978 Beijing, gray rooftops stretching in a continuous expanse, but on the street corner young people could be seen running while clutching books.

The image ended, and a line of text appeared on the screen: 【Historical Correction Force activated, civilization inheritance chain formally established】.

Zhao Jianguo stared at that line of text, motionless for a long time.

Su Qing stood behind him, looking at the terminal screen, and whispered: "This… is that our business from back then?"

He nodded, his throat feeling blocked: "I guess so."

"Then she… is me?"

"Not you." He shook his head. "It's another you. She missed the exam, but never let go of her books."

Su Qing didn't ask further, just reached out to touch the child's head, then took his hand.

The three of them just stood there, the two children leaning against each other in the middle, nobody speaking.

The night wind blew up again, carrying the particular dampness of early spring. The lights of the technology building shone on them, stretching their shadows long, all the way to the far end of the plaza.

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head to look at the terminal; the last line of prompt had not yet disappeared:

【Archive operating normally】

【Next stage task awaiting unlock】

He pressed his lips together, slipped his hands into his pockets, and held the terminal tightly against his chest.

In the distance, the seven-point faint light continued to flicker, its rhythm steady, as if waiting for a response.

He took the child's hand, turned, and walked toward home.

Just as he took the first step, the terminal suddenly popped up a new message:

【Unknown signal source detected approaching】

【Coordinates: former site of the Siheyuan】

【Signal feature match: 93.2%】

His steps halted.

Su Qing sensed something was wrong: "What's up?"

He didn't answer, just slowly lifted his head, gazing toward the direction of the old housing complex on the other side of the city.

Over there it was pitch black, with hardly any streetlights lit.

But in his field of vision, there was a extremely faint light, rising from the courtyard of the Siheyuan, like a tender shoot just sprouting in spring.